The Great Cookie Catastrophe of 2013

What a wonderful time of the year. I’m still gnawing on stale Day-After- Valentine’s candy, Cadbury Crème Eggs have already hit the shelves, and Girl Scout cookie season is in full force. On my personal food pyramid, Thin Mints are part of the baseline. Plus, I feel like buying Girl Scout cookies is a wholesome thing to do. Or some such crap.

Have you already guessed that I was never a Girl Scout? I became a Brownie long enough for my mom to buy me every outfit and the little beanie, went to a few meetings, and quit when I found out we couldn’t just sit around talking all the time; we were supposed to do activities or whatever.

I wish I had known that one could earn a Cookie Activity Pin by “participating in cookie activities.”

I started wondering what valuable lessons the girls learn in pursuit of the Cookie Activity Pin, and what I found is fascinating. It turns out that there are two large camps; the Thin Mint loyalists, and the Samoa believers. There is a small third camp that thinks both cookies are poisoned and only care to drink tea. They are 100% true blue Americans who like to look at Russia from their houses.

In order to make the whole cookie sale thing work, the Thin Mints and the Samoas had to sit in a room and figure things out. And before long, they reached consensus. To paraphrase real quotes from actual Girl Scouts:

We all have to agree on how the money from cookie sales will be spent, which means talking it out and being OK with not always getting my way.

I have to keep my word no matter what. I can’t say “yeah, sure” and then not do anything.

It’s important to speak up and look people in the eye. I have to be able to explain why I’m doing what I’m doing.

It feels so good to work really hard to reach a goal.

I have to figure out how to solve problems; my decisions matter. I can’t just look to mom or dad for help.

We figured out real goals, like how we want people to feel when they buy a box of our cookies, and what good we can do with the money. It has definitely changed the way I look at the world.

I see how money works, and why money matters not just to me but to everyone.

I see how money can do good for the world if it’s used right.

If I don’t do what I’m supposed to, it’s not just hurting me, it’s hurting the other girls too.

I learned how to budget and finance my future.

If only members of Congress could learn from Girl Scouts. No dice. Here’s their take on things:

Samoas rule, Thin Mints drool

Thin Mints is a nice American name. I don’t know where these “Samoas” come from, or if they’re here legally

Samoas are filled with deadly chemicals, whereas Thin Mints are made from wholesome ingredients

Samoas are now legal in California only for those with low blood sugar

I will keep my word to lower the cost of Samoas by using artificial flavoring, which will produce more jobs

Thin Mints are living in the dark ages. They’re just not in touch with reality

I wholeheartedly support same-cookie marriage

Samoas have yet to produce a long form list of bakers. How do we know they were truly baked in America?

It is undeniable that 99% of the butter is being creamed with just 1% of the sugar

Samoas mandated that all cookies buy shipping insurance. I just don’t think that’s fair. Some cookies don’t care if they’re lost en route

Unfortunately, this gets us nowhere. Congress made a pinky swear that if they can’t agree on manufacturing costs and pricing by midnight tonight, they will arbitrarily cut ingredients across the entire cookie line. But without enough mint, Thin Mints will just be Thin Faintest Hint O’Mints, and without enough coconut, Samoas will just be Sam’s Dry ‘N Flavorless. The tea people of course love the sound of a dry cookie. But they will still complain bitterly.

The Girl Scouts, who worked really hard to make the cookies at the outset, will be screwed.

I know, as a metaphor it’s a stretch, but don’t blame me. I’m in a Thin Mint induced haze.